Funeral
by xrosepetalsx
Summary: The one where Deidara reminisces about Itachi at his funeral, and regrets the time he didn't spend with him. AU. Character death.


**A/N: **Re-post of a fic that was originally part of a set of drabbles.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own.

**Funeral**

**- xrosepetalsx –**

Deidara sits at the front of the church with his head in his hands, and his eyes red rimmed and tired, but thankfully dry. He hasn't cried this much since his mom died, what feels like thousands of years ago, and he never wants to cry this much again.

It's not like him. It's weak, and Itachi would make fun of him if he could see him now.

It's late, and almost everyone has gone. The casket sit's wide open in front of him, but Deidara doesn't want to go home.

Deidara is afraid to go home.

He knows it's cowardly, but he can't find it in himself to care. At home, there are too many sculptures hidden in his art studio of Itachi doing this, or doing that, and he can't bear to look at them, can't bear to see the things he'd been too stubborn to let Itachi see while he was alive. He'd never wanted Itachi to know just how in love with him he'd been, and now it was too late.

_"I need new paintbrushes, yeah. Your brother's boyfriend's stupid dog chewed up my old ones," Deidara complained to Itachi one afternoon. "Go out and buy them for me, yeah? You owe me one."_

_"No, I don't," Itachi replied succinctly, ignoring his blonde headed boyfriend in lieu of his anatomy textbook._

_"Yes you do, yeah!" Deidara protested, throwing one of his chewed up paintbrushes at the back of Itachi's head. "I want the same brand and all."_

_Slowly, slowly, Itachi turned away from his homework to glare at his boyfriend, dark eyes piercing and hard. Deidara stared back with a masochistic smile on his face. "I need them by tonight, yeah."_

_Itachi stood up, bending over briefly to pick up the paintbrush that had previously been thrown at his head, and stalked over to Deidara with a murderous expression on his face. Wordlessly, he plucked the rest of the chewed up paintbrushes out of the blondes hand, grabbed his keys, and stalked out of the house without another word or glance behind him._

_He didn't see Deidara's soft smile behind him._

Across from him, Deidara could hear the quiet voices of Naruto and Sasuke. Naruto was comforting the younger Uchiha sibling, and Sasuke was pretending like he didn't need it. They both knew he did. They both knew he needed it just as badly as Deidara needed to be comforted – but there was no one around to comfort him. Not anymore.

_"Deidara, what is this?" Itachi asked, walking calmly out of Deidara's art studio with a piece of paper clutched in his hand. Deidara turned to stare at him, taking in the blank look on his lover's face and the thick piece of poster paper he held slightly away from his body, as if the image before him disturbed him._

_"I wouldn't know, yeah. You have it turned away from me," Deidara replied indifferently; but he did know what it was. He knew exactly what it was, and he'd been hoping Itachi might find it._

_Itachi glared at him for a moment before moving closer and thrusting it at him so he could take a look at it himself. "Ah," Deidara stated simply, before putting it down beside him, face up, and returning his attention to the tv._

_"Well?" Itachi demanded, when it became apparent that Deidara wasn't going to answer his question._

_"It's a drawing, yeah," Deidara stated calmly, sipping at the beer he held in one of his black nailed hands._

_"Yes, I know it's a drawing Deidara. But what the hell is it a drawing of."_

_"I thought that was rather obvious, yeah. It's a drawing of you and I fucking."_

_They were both silent for a while, Deidara sipping at his beer, and Itachi staring at him with his intense eyes. Instead of saying another word, Itachi moved into their bedroom, and came out again with a belt in his hand. Deidara grinned into his beer._

Theirs was a complicated relationship. Dark in some respects, but sweet in others. Deidara would miss the man. Deidara would regret every moment he'd refused to tell the other he'd loved him. But maybe that's what their relationship had always been. Not loveless, not at all; they'd just never needed to say it, and neither had ever been raised to say it.

"I love you Sasuke," he heard from behind him, and in his own mind, _I loved you Itachi._

_"Stop twitching, yeah, you're going to mess it up before it even dries," Deidara complained loudly as Itachi once again shifted his hands around, trying to find the remote without touching his wet nails to anything._

_Itachi glared at him. "And I care why?" he drawled._

_"Because you lost the bet, yeah. Now stop twitching!"_


End file.
